Under the Mistletoe
by starfire341
Summary: At France's annual Christmas party, love's in the air. And several couples pondering their feelings about being alone on Christmas. Multi-shots. Includes USUK, GerIta, AusHun,PruCan, and KikuWan. Rated T because I'm paranoid and France is there.


**In honor of the season of Christmas, here's a Christmas story of couples galore. Of course I'll still be updating Can't Smile Without You and Innocent Until Proven Guilty, but because of the holiday season those stories won't be the center of attention until after New Year's. I owe a lot of these ideas to my little sis, shout out to her. **

**Anyways, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or The Sound of Music.**

Buon Natale

"_Christmas comes once a year. The love I have for you only comes once in a lifetime."_

_~Unknown_

England sat quietly alone at an empty table watching as fellow nations danced away the night at France's annual Christmas party.

He, himself, had no desire to be there knowing that a) that the place would be crawling with mistletoe and b) France would do his best to make some "magical" memories at the party. Yet, he had allowed himself to be dragged to the party by America much to his annoyance.

He wasn't entirely sure why he catered to his former colony and now crazy friend's whims. Sure America was a superpower but that couldn't be the only reason he would comply to America's insane plans.

He took a sip of the French champagne generously provided by France.

He made a face as the liquid hit his lips. It was much too sweet for his taste. And, the fizz of the drink didn't help him enjoy it as much as he hoped he would have especially after hearing so many things about it.

"Ah, _Angleterre _I see you've had some of the champagne," France said appearing from out of nowhere. He wore a waiter's outfit maybe as ploy or simply because he wanted to play the role of a good host. "And from the looks of it, it isn't much to your liking."

"Bug off," England said waving a hand irritably at the Frenchman.

"You wound me," France said and put a hand mockingly over his heart.

He rolled his eyes at France's theatrics.

The Frenchman gravitated to the chair beside him.

His relationship with France was a love hate kind of thing. Most of the times their relationship was in the "hate" phase with included many arguments, insults, and punches thrown. But maybe this time it was in the love phase.

"What do you want?" he asked France attempting to scowl at him.

"Not me," France dismissed. "It's the lonely soul out on the balcony."

England peered to see who was out on the balcony hidden behind the French doors.

"Who is it?" he asked in spite of himself.

"You must look for yourself, _Angleterre_," France said and shrugged his shoulders.

France left him with a flirtatious wink. He went and disappeared into the crowd most likely to find Prussia or Spain. The crowd of dancing of nations parted slightly to let him through then sealing again causing him to lose track of France.

He sighed and left the table to move to the balcony. It wasn't like it was going to kill him. Besides, he didn't have anything better to do. And, what kind of gentleman would he be if he didn't at least try to respond to an invitation.

XXXooXXX

America breathed in the clean, crisp evening air. It was a welcome change from the hot and stuffy dancefloor where he found himself for majority of the party. Granted, he felt bad for leaving Belgium so abruptly during the dance. But, he needed air.

Over the years, America had learned several important things about Paris. It was the city of love. It really wasn't just a saying. You could practically feel the aura of love all around.

Paris also held the urban feel but at the same time held that slower pace of life that, he felt, all of Europe had. It was a nice change from the fast pace life back in the states.

France had peered on him during his whole reverie. He pretended not to notice the Frenchman leaving and continued to stare out into the Parisian skyline.

He couldn't remember how crazy his first Christmas in Paris was, which wasn't surprising. More than half the nations, himself included, claimed that France had spiked the drinks. England was screaming bloody murder claiming he woke up the next day in France's room half naked. And all the while France was laughing, his annoying, stereotypical French laugh.

He looked back at the party. England had left his table to do who knows what. Spain and Romano were talking in a secluded corner. The Spaniard laughed at Romano's reddening face. And, France was… nowhere to be seen.

That was bad. No it was worse than bad. It was terrible.

If you couldn't find France during no one was safe.

A soft knock came from behind the French doors now cracked open. England.

"May I come out?" England asked, his head poking from behind the doors.

"Yeah sure, dude," he replied. He hadn't spoken to England all evening which was ironic considering it was him who dragged the Englishman to the party.

"Um… I just came by to wish you a Merry Christmas," England said not really meeting his eyes.

"Merry Christmas to you too, England," he said in reply.

The two stood there on the balcony in awkward silence.

America played with his hands as he faced England. He had been meaning to tell the Brit something for a while now but didn't know how to say it.

"H- hey, England, I've been meaning to tell you-"

He was cut off as England lurched forward unexpectedly hitting his lips. He let out an alarmed sound as they kissed.

It was unexpected. But it was nice. He closed his eyes and stopped struggling. England was a good kisser. He was fiery and passionate even though it was an accidental kiss.

England pulled back breathing heavily. His cheeks were red and his eyes were trained to the floor.

"France," England growled. "I'm sorry about that America. That bloody frog snuck out here and tripped me."

America looked around the balcony looking for France who wasn't there.

"Don't be sorry," America whispered catching the Brit's attention. "You're not a bad kisser."

And with that, he pulled to the Brit close and kissed him. And to his pleasure, England kissed back.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad Christmas after all.

* * *

><p>Japan whipped out his camera and went through his photos. He had several pictures of Spain and Romano and some more recent ones of England and America courtesy of France.<p>

He was alone in an empty room away from the main ballroom. It was silent which was a nice change from the blasting music of ball room's dancefloor.

He sighed as he sank into the plush armchair.

"Nihon! Kiku! There you are! I was looking for you," feminine voice called as the owner of voice entered the room.

It was Taiwan. She wore her traditional pink dress with a flower in her brown hair. She had a bright smile as she looked at him.

"I was wondering where you went," she said as she plopped herself in the armchair next to him. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly attempting to put away his camera. He was almost done putting it deep in his bag when, Taiwan snatched the camera away.

"Doesn't look like nothing," the girl said as she went through the camera's contents.

He studied her face as she went through the pictures. She was smiling and seemed, if he dare think, pleased with the photos.

"Have you talked to Hungary?" she asked as she handed to camera back to him.

He nodded in reply.

"Good," she said simply. "She can help you get more pictures. Those were amazing Kiku."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Kiku," she said in a sing a song voice as she got up and left the room.

Kiku racked his brain around for what this could possibly mean. Did Taiwan like him? Was she just playing with him? Did she really just kiss him? Did he actually enjoy it?

He sighed; his face flushed a bright red.

Girls were so confusing.

* * *

><p>Germany stood against the wall as he watched other dance away the night. He really wasn't in the mood to dance. Italy had already worn him out earlier on their "adventure".<p>

"Ve~ Germany isn't this a nice party?" Italy asked cheerfully as he came up to the tired German.

"Ja, _Italien_," he replied. "It's a nice party."

Italy than went on a tangent going on about how good the food was but wasn't as good as his pasta and so on and so forth.

He merely nodded and observed the bubbly Italian. He was quite a handful almost like firework in an enclosed area. Not that he minded. He was quite used to it.

"Germany, oh, Germany," Italy almost sang. "Look there's mistletoe above us."

Dreading this moment, Germany looked up and saw what he fear: mistletoe.

"Kiss me Germany! Kiss me!"

He rolled his eyes Italy's antics resisting the urge to laugh. He then bent down a kissed the Italian on what he hoped would have been the cheek.

But, Italy had moved and he had kissed Italy's lips.

Italy wasn't a bad kisser. There was gentleness in his kiss. And yet, it still contained the same bubbly energy that the Italian had.

He pulled back and looked down at Italy.

"_Buon Natale_," Italy whispered his eyes looking up at Germany.

He then snuck a surprise hug on him and buried his head in Germany's jacket.

"_Frohe Weihnachten_," he whispered in reply.

* * *

><p>Austria was tired of the party and wanted to find a quiet place to practice on his piano. He, thankfully, found an empty music room complete with a piano and record player.<p>

It was an old record player and Austria was surprised that France still had it. Not that he was complaining.

He turned on the record player as he took his seat back at the piano.

The record player scratched out the tune to a song he hadn't heard in a while. He was surprised that France still even had this song on his records.

Austria waited for the words to start but they never did. So he, in spite of himself, sang.

"Edelweiss, Edelweiss. Every morning you greet me. Small and white, clean and bright. You look happy to meet me," he sang. "Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow. Bloom and grow forever. Edelweiss, Edelweiss. Bless my homeland forever."

"Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow. Bloom and grow forever. Edelweiss, my homeland forever."

He paused and caught his breath. It had been so long since had heard, much less sang, this song. It brought back so many memories.

"That was beautiful," a voice said. It was Hungary who was now entering the room. "It's been awhile since I've heard you sing."

"Hungary," he said his voice going up slightly. "I hope you didn't hear that. It wasn't really that good."

She laughed softly as if to not interrupt the record player which was now playing a different song.

"Nonsense, Roderich," she whispered as she wrapped an arm around him. "That was lovely."

He took in every detail of Elizaveta's face. She hadn't changed at all over the years. She still had her beautiful green eyes and brown hair. Her smile still made him want to kiss her and gave him a light feeling.

In the background the record player continued playing.

"_Perhaps I had a wicked childhood. Perhaps I had a miserable youth. But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past. There must have been a moment of truth. For here you are, standing there, loving me. Whether or not you should. But somewhere in my youth or childhood. I must have done something good. Nothing comes from nothing. Nothing ever could. So somewhere in my youth or childhood. I must have done something good."_

"Hungary, I –"he stammered out before he was cut off.

"Shhh," Hungary silenced him.

"_For here you are, standing there, loving me. Whether or not you should. So somewhere in my youth or childhood. I must have done something good."_

"_Szeretlek_, Roderich," she whispered to him. "_Boldog karácsonyt_."

"_Én is szeretlek. Boldog karácsonyt_," he whispered in reply.

He then leaned down and kissed like he did so long ago. And much to his surprise, she kissed back.

It was good Christmas after all.

* * *

><p>Prussia walked dejectedly down the hallway past the music room.<p>

He had almost walked in on a make out session between Austria and Hungary. Not that the whole situation should have surprised him. He had known for years that Hungary had hots for that Austrian and that Austria was a bit too eager to please when it came to Elizaveta.

All the while knowing this, he had still hoped that maybe, just maybe, she'd choose him. Not like she had a good reason to choose him over Austria.

It didn't really bother him anyways. He didn't really _hate_ Austria not that he would ever say that to him. Besides, he made Hungary happy. And if she was happy, he would be happy.

He kicked the ground.

He didn't know why he was so upset. It didn't bother, not in a romantic sense anyways. Maybe it was just the fact that he was somewhat alone at Christmas.

"At least I still have you, Gilbird," he said to the small yellow bird circling around his head.

France had left early during the party to either a)molest whoever was closest to him of b)play matchmaker.

Spain had left him slowly. In the early hours of the party, he would stray to speak to Romano. Eventually the Spaniard left him entirely. Not that Prussia minded. Spain loved Romano and Romano loved him back not like he would say it out loud.

That was the reason! He didn't have a special someone.

"Nein, I am the awesome Prussia!" he exclaimed to himself. "I don't need anyone!"

Gilbird chirped above his head as if questioning the albino's confidence.

"Who am I kidding, Gilbird. I'm going to be alone in the end aren't I? I mean, hell, even West has a boyfriend."

"Prussia!" a small voice yelled, which really was more like a normal talking voice. "Wait up!"

Reluctantly, Prussia turned around and faced the speaker. He sighed because in all honesty he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

"What do you want? I'm a very awesome person, loser, and I have a very busy and awesome schedule to keep," he raved.

"Prussia, it's me. Canada," the man, Canada said. "I just wanted to see how you are."

"Oh, hi Canada," Prussia said. "I've fine. Just spending some time with my awesome self."

He was disgusted. He sounded so sad and pathetic, like a kicked puppy. No one as awesome as himself would have ever sounded that pitiful. Gott, he sounded like a loser.

In response, Canada handed him a bottle with a red bow tied around it.

"Um… Merry Christmas," Canada stammered. "I hope you like it. And by the looks of it, you could use this."

Prussia peered at the bottle and untied the bow. It was a bottle of maple syrup. Not the crappy store bought maple syrup but the pure Canadian made maple syrup. And heaven knows he loved maple syrup. It was practically his guilty pleasure, the equivalent of crack.

"_Danke_, Canada," he said to the Canadian.

"Prussia, I –I wanted to, um… tell you s-something," Canada stuttered. The Canadian peered down at his shoes as he wrestled with his hands.

Prussia on the other hand looked up and saw something that made him lurch.

Mistletoe.

It couldn't be a coincidence. Canada giving him a gift and stopping him right beneath the mistletoe couldn't be a coincidence. Nein, it could only mean one thing.

Canada was in love with him.

But did he love Canada?

He looked back at the nervous Canadian who was now blushing and still stammering. It was undeniably cute the way his purple eyes looked up and down and the way his lips moved.

It made him wonder how his lips might feel against his own.

Gott, he was in love.

"I-I've b-been wanting t-to tell y-you something for a while n-now," Canada stuttered. "I lo- ACK!"

Out of instinct, Prussia pulled to Canadian to him and began to kiss him. He could feel the gentleness in the Canadian's kiss even if he was still slightly shocked. It wasn't a fiery as other kisses he'd had before but it nice. It was different.

Canada pulled back for breath and he looked at him still slightly surprised, his face a light shade of pink.

"I love you," he whispered. "What was that?"

Prussia gave Canada a devious smile.

"Mistletoe," he replied simply before pulling Canada into a kiss again.

At first the kisses were slow with the same care that was there when they started kissing. But slowly their kissing became more desperate and fierier. They pulled at each other for desperately as if depending on each other.

Prussia pulled away slowly, his face still close to Canada's.

"_Frohe Weihnachten, Kanada_," he whispered softly into Canada's ear.

"_Joyeux Noël, la Prusse_," Canada whispered in reply.

He wasn't alone after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Again, Merry Christmas guys! I hope you all have a great holiday!<strong>


End file.
